The Girl in the Cafe
by lumosnox9
Summary: Working title. Harry returns to the train station to make a very important date.
1. Back to Treats

(Okay so I know it's sacrilegious to base this off of a moment in the movie instead of the book, but I couldn't resist. Obviously you know what scene this is referring to, and I'd like to point out that this fic is based in the literary universe of books one through five, taking place directly off the beginning of the Half Blood Prince movie. So, he hasn't yet learned about Sirius' will or owning Grimmauld Place. Although, his arrival at the Burrow is similar to the books, in which everyone is asleep besides Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Tonks, and he talks to the three before going to sleep in the twins' room. All that said, I do hope you enjoy...I've only gotten three chapters done and I'm looking for feedback before continuing on.)

Harry did not go to sleep after he bade Mrs. Weasley good night. He lay there, wondering what might have been had Dumbledore not appeared there in there train station. Looking at the clock, he sighed. It was 10:55. She'd be off in a few minutes, the girl from the cafe. The introduction to Slughorn and the conversation with Dumbledore outside of the Burrow were intriguing, but now that they were over, he couldn't get her off of her mind, that set of eyes, that whimsical hair, that smile. He didn't even know her name.

Hedwig perched on Fred and George's window again, looking quite proud of the small animal in her mouth that she wouldn't have been able to find back in Little Whinging. Harry stood and approached his owl, petting her softly. "What do I do, girl?" he asked her. Hedwig simply huffed at him, and flew to her cage where she dropped the rodent and dug in.

Harry turned away from the sight with a wince, his eyes happening to land on a photograph that was hanging out of his school trunk. He picked it up and studied it once again. Mad-Eye Moody had given it to Dumbledore to give to him a couple of days after the incident at the Ministry of Magic. It disturbed him when he first laid eyes upon it at a party almost a year ago, but now he relished the opportunity to look upon the youngest members of the Order 15 years ago. First he looked upon his parents, the ones he could barely remember, but who he had been told lived on through him. Peter Pettigrew, looking more than a bit tired and stressed, was forcing a smile. Harry of course knew why he looked that way; it couldn't be easy living a double life and betraying your friends. Remus Lupin looked younger, of course, though his hair was beginning to gray even at age 21, from years of lycanthropy.

And there was Sirius Black, who happened to be the Order's latest casualty; fun-loving, care-free, loyal-to-the-end Sirius Black. Harry had holed himself up in his room in Privet Drive for days after returning at the beginning of the Summer, depressed from the trauma of seeing his surrogate brother/father figure whisked away into Merlin-knew-where. Harry smirked at the young man in the photo, who had yet to go through more than a decade of tortured captivity in the worst place imaginable. He often wondered how, after that, Sirius still had the aura of confidence, aloofness, and sort of swagger in the last year that Harry had been able to get to know him in person.

And Harry knew just what the Sirius in the photo and the Sirius that had recently passed away would do: smack him in the head for taking this long to leave the Burrow.

"Thanks for the advice," he said to the smugly smiling Marauder. When the clock hit 10:58, Harry changed back into his clothes from that day, and grabbed his invisibility cloak, per Dumbledore's instructions, although he knew that doing this would be vastly against the Headmaster's wishes anyway.

Stepping out into the warm night, Harry walked out to the road, and made it there in about ten minutes. He'd done this before, accidentally, and then saw Remus do it last year. Slowly, he raised his wand straight up in the air. The Knight Bus zipped in front of him almost instantly, coming to a screeching halt. Stepping down onto the street was the familiar face of Stan Shunpike. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wiz –" He stopped upon seeing Harry's face. "Oh, it's you. No fancy-haired bodyguard to threaten me this time, I see." Harry smirked and walked past Stan onto the bus. The conductor followed him and closed the door. "Where to, Mr. Potter?"

"Surbiton Station, please."

"'Leven sickles."

Harry fished through his bag of coins. "How about five galleons, and there aren't any detours?" he asked quietly.

"That's my language you're speakin' Mr. Potter. Five galleons it is then. 'ot chocolate?"

"I'm fine." Harry took his ticket and sat on the nearest available bed. He was launched off of it, however, when the Knight Bus took off. Luckily, none of the few people on the bus were awake, so it was only Stan going ballistic with laugher. He smirked and got back on the bed. Would a bench have been so bad?

Stan was reading the paper, as he had been when he'd first met Harry three years ago. "Lot of things they're sayin' about you, 'Arry. Chosen one and what not. 'Tween the two us, is there any fact to 'em?" Stan winked and grinned at him.

"If there's anything to be learned from the last year, don't read the Prophet, Stan," Harry replied. "And…don't pursue a career in journalism." That seemed to shut Stan up, and the conductor turned and spoke to Ernie for a moment. Harry rolled his eyes, not really wondering what the Knight Bus employees were chatting about.

Another screech almost launched Harry over, had he not braced himself. Getting up and trying not to heave, he left the bus. He cringed when he checked his watched and saw the long hand reach the four; the girl at the cafe had been off for twenty minutes. He hurried into the station and towards the cafe

He eyed her in front of the small building, Treats, rocking on her heels and checking her own watch. When she smirked and began walking away, Harry hurried. "Hey! Hey, wait up."

Turning, the girl smiled. "Didn't think you'd show. I was disappointed when you disappeared on me there."

"Sorry about that. My, err, friend needed me to convince someone to do something for him."

She giggled. "You're the persuasive one, are you?" she teased. "Well, I'm glad you showed up at all. So do you have a name?"

"Har – James." He caught himself at the last minute, realizing they'd spoken about a Harry Potter before, and he'd called himself a tosser. "James Evan Black."

"You always introduce yourself with your full name, James Evan Black?" She raised her eyebrows as he blushed and couldn't respond. "Well, pleased to meet you. I myself am Jocelyn Tara Montgomery. You can call me Joss, though, if I like you."

Jocelyn. It was a beautiful name, and Harry found it fitting. They walked out of the station on the opposite entrance that he'd gone in. "So, would you fancy getting a coffee or something?"

Jocelyn scoffed. "I spend my entire day around coffee. I wouldn't say no to a bite to eat, though."

"Brilliant. Those sounds…brilliant."

The girl giggled. "You don't go out on dates all too much, do you?"

"To be honest, I haven't had much time for it. Things get kind of busy at school, and I've been kept at home a lot during Summers, unfortunately." He smiled, hearing her refer to this as a date.

"Well, leave it to me, Mr. Black." She hailed a cab and gave the driver a cross-street. "It's a great little pub, on the quieter and less rowdy side, if you're okay with that."

Harry nodded. "I do, actually. So, Jocelyn, tell me about yourself." One thing he regretted about his short-lived relationship with Cho Chang was that he was a horrible boyfriend, if he could have even been called a boyfriend. He honestly didn't bother to learn one thing about the girl, other than her favorite Quidditch team and who her best friend was.

"Well, I live here in Surbiton, just off of Portsmouth. I'm a bit of a klutz, so prepare yourself." She smirked and shook her head. "It's actually a good thing I'm a friend of the manager at Treats; I couldn't tell you how many cappuccinos have just exploded as I'm making them, for no apparent reason at all." She blow out a breath of exaggerated exasperation, rolling her eyes. "So if I injured you tonight, just know that it's most likely not intentional."

Harry laughed as she winked at him; his stomach did a backflip when she laughed. "I'll try to keep that in mind." The cab pulled to the curb in front of the pub, and Harry and Jocelyn stepped out onto the sidewalk. She led him in and asked the man behind the counter for a couple of cokes and some menus, which he brought to the booth they'd sat in.

"Can't wait to turn eighteen and can order a pint in public; it's about the only thing Ben won't let me get away with here. One more year to go, though," Joss said wistfully. "How old are you, by the way?"

"I'll be sixteen next week, actually."

"Oh! Well, I certainly hope you have a very happy birthday. So, James, it's your turn to tell me about yourself. Oh, and the fish here is amazing, but no pressure."

"Err, well I grew up in Surrey. My aunt and uncle raised me. They…well, I'm just going to be glad when I'm able to leave."

"What's so horrible about them?" Joss asked as she sipped her drink through a straw, careful not to pick it up and have something inexplicable happen to her.

"They're not really the most nurturing. My parents died when I was a baby, and they never got along with either of them. I suppose they're just extending their hatred towards me." He couldn't exactly say _why _they'd hated him or his parents.

"That must have been really hard, James. I couldn't imagine being raised by someone like that."

"I've moved past it. It's their issue, and I've only got a year left until I don't have to see them again."

"A year? You wouldn't be able to leave home until you're eighteen though, right?"

"Oh. Yeah, well, I've convinced them to emancipate me next year, as long as I keep my grades up. None of us are going to be too heart-broken about it." Harry sipped his drink to stop himself from talking for a moment. He'd spoken his cover-up pretty fast, and he didn't want her to get suspicious.

The old man that Harry assumed was Ben came and took their orders, fish and chips for both of them. "Where do you go to school at then?" she asked with a smile, apparently satisfied by his emancipation story. But Harry now had another thing to cover up. Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all.

"It's…a private school in Scotland. Beautiful place." He couldn't say Hogwarts, the name was ridiculous for a school, at least to a muggle. And at the same time, the last place he wanted to say he studied was his uncle's cover, a school for incurably criminal boys.

"I bet, I've seen pictures of Scotland and it looks absolutely beautiful." Joss' eyes lit up, something that made Harry smile wide as he nodded.

"Where do you go?"

She finished her soda and burped before she answered. "Excuse me. So sorry, I'm a fast drinker." She smiled apologetically and continued. "But I'm actually homeschooled. My dad got a huge promotion when I was eleven, so mum was able to quit her job and start doing that just as I was going to start secondary school. Believe it or not, I'm top of my class." She winked, giving a small smile. "Bad joke, I apologize. I want to go to University out of the country, though, if I can manage it. My folks are against it, but I'm hoping to turn them around. And if I don't, not much they can do in a year anyway."

The late dinner went amazingly from there. Harry was getting to be quite good at muggling up details and stories from his life. His stories were quite a hit with Joss, who laughed quite a bit at them. "These twins sound hilarious! I wouldn't even know where to get fireworks like that, and they must have a lot of nerve to set them off in the middle of school like that. I'll have to visit this joke shop of theirs." Joss grinned and tossed her napkin into the finished basket of food, shaking her head as the laughter slowly dissipated. "So James, what…what happened to your parents?"

Harry's smile faded and he pursed his lips, looking down at the table. Joss seemed to immediately regret asking. "I'm sorry; you don't have to answer that. I'm not even sure why I –"

"It's fine, really," he interjected softly, and then cleared his throat. "It was –"

But the loud sounds of screeches rang through the open door, a sound he'd heard before that same night, and only one vehicle could be that loud. "What is it James?" Joss asked, her brow furrowing, as Harry turned at the noise that she hadn't heard.

Stan Shunpike's voice sounded once again. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency trans –" In an odd occurrence of deju vu for Harry, the conductor's voice was cut off again. Harry furrowed his brow and stood without warning, heading outside. There he saw Stan standing on the edge of the bus, his face blank and emotionless. And then, Harry could just make out a slight discoloration in front of the man, sort of warping the image of Stan's body. It looked much like a disillusionment charm, if he wasn't mistaken.

Just as Joss followed him outside, and the disillusioned figure was moving into the Knight Bus, which was beginning to move, Harry took a chance and whipped out his wand, pointing to it and yelling, "Accio Death Eater!" No bystanders were in the street, and so it was only he and Joss that heard the yell and crack that followed Harry's spell. The slightly invisible figure crash-landed in front of Harry, the impact seeming to break the disillusionment charm.

His hood had dropped as well, showing a thin, bony man with short hair grimacing in pain as he grabbed his arm. Harry didn't recognize him, not one bit, but his summoning spell had indeed identified the man as a death eater. Jocelyn gasped at what she'd experienced, and Harry realized what she'd seen; him whipping out a magic wand, casting a spell at an invisible bus, and making an invisible man appear in front of them. But he'd have to deal with that later, for the thin man shot his wand at both of them and shouted "Crucio!"

At the last moment, Harry shoved Jocelyn out of the way, then screamed in pain as the curse took over control of his entire body, lighting every nerve he had on fire. He collapsed to the ground and convulsed, feeling the pain grow stronger. He thought he heard Jocelyn scream his father's name, but it was faint. The one thing that could be said was that the cruciatus curse put on him by Lord Voldemort a little over a year ago was much stronger than this. In fact, focusing on that comparison seemed to help, and he moved slightly, wincing and looking up at the death eater defiantly.

The movement obviously surprised the thin man, who struggled to strengthen the curse, though he was successful, and Harry's face cringed as he staggered a bit and let out another painful grunt. It knocked off his concentration and he wasn't so sure he was going to beat this, nearly submitting himself to a fate similar to his friend Neville's parents, but then, as suddenly as it started, the pain ceased, and a scream now left the death eater's mouth as a dash of pepper spray left the bottle in Jocelyn's hand and hit him square in the eyes.

With a grunt, the black-robed man flicked his wand towards the muggle and send her flying towards the wall of the pub, and Harry shook off the remnants of the cruciatus curse and cast a cushioning charm on the bricks to make her bounce off of the wall and land back on her feet with a shocked and traumatized face as Harry aimed his wand at the death eater and yelled, "Stupefy!" with a scratchy voice.

The death eater was able to deflect Harry's spell easily, but he used the distraction to get back up and send another curse, a reductor this time, which the other man dodged just in time. The car that the curse hit was dented beyond repair, but Harry couldn't pay much attention to it as he cast a shield charm to block an incoming stunner, and responded with a disarming curse that only missed because the death eater ducked down.

"Fulgurus!" A bolt of lightning shot at Harry, bouncing off of his shield charm and hitting a nearby tree that collapsed into a pile of ashes like a phoenix, though it would never rise. Jocelyn shrieked, making Harry remember that she was there, and as he looked instinctively towards her, he heard the spell, "Diffindo!" and felt a horrible sting in his arm. He grabbed it with a frustrated growl before he was able to cast a gust charm at the death eater, which was deflected lazily. Again he sent a cutting charm at Harry, but it was blocked that time, along with a reductor that he barely shielded against.

And then the death eater looked at the girl behind Harry and smiled wickedly, making him narrow his eyes and ignore the searing pain in his arm. The man started with a stunner aimed at Jocelyn. Harry jumped in front of her protectively and bounced it off of his shield as Joss crouched and covered her head in fear.

The older man launched curse after curse at Harry, aiming in slightly different directions to try and hit the girl. He could feel his anger rising as he defended every spell, and finally he'd had enough. He sent a cutting curse at the death eater, expecting it to be blocked, and didn't wait for it to happen, going right into his next curse, a bone-breaker that the death eater barely deflected. Gaining the upper hand, Harry shot another burst of gust at him, which, despite being shielded, moved the death eater back a meter. He aimed at a garbage can behind his opponent and shouted "Accio!" which the death eater laughed at, thinking the spell had failed.

But the laughing stopped when the can crashed into his back, knocking him forwards. He merely stumbled, but it was what Harry needed. "Expelliarmus!" The death eater's wand flew into the air, leaving him defenseless. Not finished, Harry oncde again shouted, "Stupefy!" putting as much power as he could into it, and the death eater was thrown backwards like a ragdoll, finally out cold as he landed on the concrete.

Harry leaned down and picked up the other wand, then turned to Jocelyn. "Are you okay?"

She didn't respond to the question, standing immediately and screaming, "What the hell is going on James!?" at the top of her lungs.

He didn't have a chance to answer. An owl flew by them and a red envelope dropped near him. Harry sighed and opened it, mouthing the howler's words along with it; Merlin knew he'd heard the words enough to recite them. Added to his problems were the approaching siren of a police car, and Harry was surprised it was so late; surely someone would have called the police earlier.

And then the crack of apparition sounded. Harry turned towards the source, expecting either Dumbledore, a member of the Order, or maybe an auror coming to snap his wand. He didn't expect a man he'd only seen in the papers, recognizable by his mane of greying hair and face wrinkled with years of experience hunting down dark wizards as an auror.

He stepped over the death eater, stunning him for good measure, then walked over to the two teens, one of them shocked to see a man appear out of thin air for the second time tonight, the other surprised to see the that the Minister of Magic himself had responded to his use of underage magic.

"I was hoping to meet you on better terms, Harry, but I'll take what I can get."

(I'm sure it's assumed that I would like reviews, lots of them. In return, I'll love you forever.)


	2. The New Minister

"Harry?" Jocelyn said with narrowed eyes as she put two and two together. "Harry Potter…_you're the_ tosser from the newspaper?"

"Very astute observation, Miss Montgomery, but now is not the time for reintroductions. Harry here is bound to be getting a few visitors who I very much wish to avoid for the moment," said Scrimgeour as Harry gave a wincing, apologetic, smile to her. The Minister picked up a piece of debris from the ground and whispered, "Portus," making it glow blue, then tossed it onto the death eater and watched him disappear with a slight upwards tug.

Jocelyn yelled at the two of them, after seeing yet another display of magic. "Will someone please tell me what's going on? How are all these people appearing and disappearing? And how do you know my name? "

Harry wondered that last one as well. He looked to Scrimgeour to answer, but would be out of luck. "All in due time," was all the man said. He was more like Dumbledore than Harry'd expected, in that regard at least. "Now, Harry, if you'll – Merlin, that's a nasty wound." He brought his wand up to Harry's arm and bathed it in a blue light. Harry felt a cooling sensation as his deep cut closed cleanly, and Scrimgeour cast a quick charm to repair his shirt and remove the blood. Jocelyn gasped at the spellwork and Scrimgeour smirked, now holding his wand up to her and beginning a new spell. "Oblivi –"

"Wait," Harry said, boldly putting his hand and the Minister's wand and forcing it down, making the man look at him with raised eyebrows. "You're not just going to wipe her memory and leave her here, are you? Sir?"

Scrimgeour studied him for a moment, and then looked to both of the teenagers. "As you wish. Both of you, grab an arm, and you'll have your answers." Jocelyn glared at Scrimgeour, not moving. "Miss Montgomery, you've seen what we can do. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already."

Reluctantly, the girl grabbed hold of Scrimgeour's arm, as did Harry, and the Minister turned on the spot. The overwhelming feeling of compression found Harry for the second time that night, and when they landed in a very comfortable-looking office, both he and Jocelyn doubled over.

"What…..what the hell!" Jocelyn heaved as she struggled to get up.

"It's not the best feeling in the world." Harry got up a little quicker and helped her, but she lightly pushed him off, getting up herself. He looked to Scrimgeour, his brow furrowed. "I didn't even know muggles could side-along apparate," he said to the man.

"Muggles?" Jocelyn asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"People who aren't…people who can't do…you know." He gestured to his wand with a wince.

Scrimgeour seemed to pay them no mind, heading to a small bar near the fireplace. "Drink?" he asked, getting no response. He continued fixing his own glass, preparing two other glasses, before sitting in a rather large armchair by the fire and using his wand to levitate the other drinks to them.

Harry took his and took a much needed sip, and Jocelyn did so as well, though more hesitantly, her eyes darting around the office rapidly. She moved to the window, where Clock Tower and Big Ben could be seen, from very close up. "Where are we?"

"Underground, if you can believe it. The view is added magically. Now, if we can talk…" He flicked his wand and conjured a pair of armchairs like his, facing him. Harry and Jocelyn took their seats. "I'm sure that before I get my meeting with Harry here, you would like some answers, Miss Montgomery. Here they are: magic is very real, witches and wizards like Harry and I very much exist and on average you encounter about eleven of us a day, give or take. Any other questions I'm sure you can ask Harry, on any future dates that I do hope occur."

They looked to the side at each other awkwardly. Harry had pretty much blown his chances with her right around the time he got up from the table to foil whatever death eater plot was afoot. Changing the subject, he looked at Scrimgeour. "Who was the death eater?"

"His name is Amycus Carrow, and he's one of the suspected death eaters that we just haven't been able to pin anything on so far. It's good to finally have him, and I thank you for his capture, Mr. Potter." He tilted his glass to Harry and smiled. "If I may, I'd like to see your account of the duel." He leaned forward and, while Harry quickly thought about the fight, pulled out the long strand of light from his head, and guided it into a vile.

"Excuse me." Scrimgeour walked across the room to his penseive, poured the memory in and stirred it, then disappeared into the basin.

"Wicked," Jocelyn breathed, whipping her head to the spot the Minister had been in.

"You're taking this all pretty well, considering," Harry noted, trying a smile.

She raised his eyebrows at him. "Don't get me wrong, I'm still livid with you Ja- Harry. But I have to admit, this is all really incredible. So what is this guy's deal?"

"He's…pretty much our Prime Minister"

"Was…was he really going to wipe my memory back there?"

"Yeah. It's kind of a big deal that we don't reveal ourselves and our world. I almost got expelled last year for it. They use a spell to make muggles forget when they've seen magic."

"Well….thanks for stopping him."

"Felt like I owed you that much." Nothing was said after that, Jocelyn not responding to him as she looked away and played with her hair.

After a few moments Scrimgeour left the basin and reappeared in the office. "Your knowledge of spells is quite limited, Mr. Potter, but your execution of that knowledge was spot on tonight." He sat back down on his chair and grabbed his glass, which had been floating in the air waiting for him. "Now, I'm sure you've been reading the paper and know that I've been trying to meet with you, and I'm sure that you want to know why." Harry nodded his affirmation. "To be honest, Harry, it's been out of desperation that I've wanted this meeting. Since confirming that Lord Voldemort has returned, the Ministry hasn't had much luck countering his attacks or hunting down his followers. Carrow is the first arrest we've made since the incident in the Department of Mysteries, and it wasn't even an auror who got him, it was a sixteen year old boy."

"Fifteen," Jocelyn interjected with a wince then looked to Harry. "Unless you lied about that, too."

Scrimgeour nodded. "Yes, fifteen. Getting to the point; originally, I've wanted to speak with you simply about making a few…appearances around the Ministry. Walking through the Atrium during daytime, making a couple of statements, that sort of thing. Pretty much, directing some of the public's new-found confidence in you toward the Ministry. It would generate tax galleons, help us recruit aurors …"

"And make me a poster boy?" Harry said dryly, narrowing his eyes at the minister.

"Precisely. But now, Harry, now I see something different. I'm told it's your dream to become an auror. How would you like to start your training now?"

Harry definitely liked the idea, but thought of something else before his mind could entertain the possibility. "Who told you that?" He hadn't really spoken about his career aspirations to Ron or Hermione, in fact he'd really just listened to what theirs were. Actually, the only three people that could have told the Minister were Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, and of course…

"Delores Umbridge," Scrimgeour said rather uncomfortably.

"She still works here?!"

"It's been rather difficult getting rid of her, to be honest. She started out as a rather successful magical lawyer before going into politics."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Any kind of cooperation you want from me won't happen as long as she's at large, Minister."

"You'll have to understand how tied my hands are, Harry. Unless you've got something more incriminating than the few counts that she's had thrown out on technicalities, she simply will not leave this office, barring a suit of wrongful termination that she's threatened us with. Figuratively, of course; she does go home every night, which is the reason I tend to work a lot of late nights here." The Minister winced and looked to Harry defeated. The teenager found it shocking that the most powerful man in the country had his hands tied by that toad.

Harry sighed. "The woman seems to always get her way, most of the time anyway." Then, he held out his hand, showing the back of it, and the scars he'd received over the past year at Hogwarts. "Think you can make torturing students stick to her?"

Jocelyn gasped, covering her mouth and gaping at Harry's hand as Scrimgeour leaned over and studied the scars. "What the hell happened to you?" she asked after gulping. The next few minutes were spent recounting his detentions with Delores Umbridge, having to spend a bit more time explaining a few background points for Jocelyn. After then, she shot a glare at the Minister. "And this horrid woman isn't behind bars?"

"As you may have seen, this is the first I'm hearing of Delores' use of a blood quill, and you can rest assured that she will be brought up on charges first thing in the morning when she gets to work. Who else knows about this, Harry?"

"My two friends, Ron and Hermione, and Lee Jordan, who she tortured as well. I'm sure he's told his friends Fred and George, too."

Joss bit her lip and looked up from his hand to his eyes. "The twins? You…you weren't lying about all those stories?"

"Course not. The only things I changed were about me being a wizard, 'cause well, I had to." He shook his head and looked away from her eyes after the two exchanged a lingering gaze. He continued speaking to Scrimgeor, after the minister cleared his throat. "Oh, and Hermione told Professor McGonagall, which probably means that Dumbledore knows."

"Odd…" Scrimgeour said, looking at the ground in thought.

Harry's brow furrowed. "What's odd?"

"Other than the fact that the Headmaster hasn't brought that information up to me? I heard about the situation in his office last year, the night he disappeared from Hogwarts. Delores was violently shaking some girl who she'd thought would give information about your defense club, and Dumbledore not only proceeded to stop her, but from the pensieve memory I saw, looked like he was ready to curse her into nonexistence for putting her hands on a student. Now, if he knew about your unique detention experience, which I agree that Minerva would have told him about, why did he not remove her from the school that instant or at least put a stop to it?"

Harry thought he knew the answer: that he thought Harry could handle it, but he didn't tell the minister that. He felt that Dumbledore trusted him probably more than any adult did. He still had his suspicions that the man was behind most of the strange coincidences in first year that pushed along his investigation of Voldemort and the Philosopher's stone; the newspaper article on Hagrid's table, the groundskeeper's strange inability to keep details about the stone a secret, and most obviously, the invisibility cloak returning to his dorm after he'd left it in the astronomy tower. "I don't know, sir."

Again, Scrimgeour studied him, then after a moment, spoke. "I will speak with this Lee Jordan about his account of these detentions, and if I could get a few pensieve memories from you, it would prove most helpful."

Harry nodded. "So about this auror thing…"

"Ah, yes. My word, we can digress, can't we? As you may know, I've been in the auror department for decades, and I know what it takes to become one. I must say, Harry, you've got more of what it takes now than most aurors do when they've been in the business for years. And from what I've learned about your history with danger ever since you entered our world, you've had it for quite a while. Stopping a professor possessed by Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher's stone when you were eleven; a year later saving your friend's sister from yet another incarnation of Voldemort, how that one occurred, I'm still not quite sure, I just know you killed it. And in third year, was it honestly one hundred dementors you fought off by the lake?"

He found himself looking away. If this was going to turn into some award ceremony, he swore he'd just walk away now. "I…I don't know, I wasn't counting."

"Yes, I doubt you would have taken the time to do that. And then as you continued to grow, so your troubles did, and so did your rising to them. It's a shame what happened to Amos' son in your fourth year, and what you were put through directly after. I suppose it added insult to injury when the Wizarding public took you for a fool for it. But then you came to this very building just a few weeks ago, and exposed the bastard, a year later than he should have been exposed. This country doesn't deserve a hero like you, Harry, but if you want, you can still give it to them."

Harry took a deep breath, embarrassed at the praise, especially in front of Jocelyn. He didn't want her getting the wrong idea, that he was some battle-hardened warrior who could do no wrong. He was just Harry, and he didn't want others to see him as any more than that. "Through all of that, I had loads of–"

"Help? Believe me, my boy, show me any of the Wizarding World's greatest heroes, and I'll show you hordes of people who helped them on the road to greatness, with pride. And that in no way makes them weaker, just the opposite, in fact. Tell me, in your first year, would your two friends have helped you through all of those obstacles, ventured with you into the depths of the school, chasing a person they thought to be a follower of Lord Voldemort, if the three of you hadn't formed a bond of friendship that year?"

Harry didn't know how to respond. "Err, I suppose not."

"And in your second, how exactly did you make a phoenix appear in that chamber underneath the school, carrying a hat with the Sword of Gryffindor inside of it? Dumbledore and I were friends before I got this job, boy, I know the story."

"I…I showed loyalty to Dumbledore, and to Hogwarts."

"And last month, when you believed your godfather was being tortured, would be killed, why did you not fly down here to London yourself? Why did those other five students decide to accompany you, ready to fight not only a handful of the Dark Lord's followers but the man himself? Do you think they would have done that for a stranger?" Harry didn't respond. The mention of his godfather left a lump in his throat. "As I've said, you have in you what most aurors ten years older are lucky to have. Magical talent and knowledge? That can be taught, devloped. The ability to lead, to make friends, to show loyalty even in the face of death? Few are born with as much of it as you've got, Mr. Potter. And it's the difference between some bloke who's good with a wand, and the kind of hero they write stories about."

Harry just looked down at his empty glass, fiddling with it, not wanting to listen, but still doing so, trying to find some way around Scrimgeour's words. Jocelyn looked at him silently, unsure of what to say to all that she'd heard. Finally, he swallowed the lump in his throat and looked up to Scrimgeour. "What do we do, then?"

Scrimgeour smiled at the lack of Harry's argument. "We train you, as I've said. If what the papers are saying about you is true, you're Voldemort's number one target. And if they're not true, you're still his number one target. This training won't only help your career post-Hogwarts, it may very well save your life. You've got a little over a month until you return to school, and I suggest you brace yourself, because you're in for a tough few weeks." He conjured a piece of parchment and quill, and began scribbling as he spoke. "During the school year, I will arrange for you to leave the school once a week, working around your classes and Quidditch schedule. I'm going to be bringing in current and former aurors to help, since I'm sure you can assume that being the Minister gets quite busy. Give me your wand, please."

Harry obeyed and watched as Scrimgeour wrapped the parchment around the holly stick, then tapped it with his own wand. It glowed a faint purple, then returned to normal before the Minister handed it back over. "Your Trace has been lifted; you don't have to worry about underage magic any longer."

Harry looked at his wand in disbelief. "S - seriously?" After all of the issues he'd had in the past five years with underage magic, one time being reprimanded when it wasn't his fault, another time not being reprimanded when it was his fault, and then last year almost being expelled for self-defense, he thought that he'd have to go through the rest of this Summer and half of the next before he wouldn't have to worry about it again. Now, he held in his hand a wand that no longer held any restrictions, save one, and the parchment that would ensure it.

"Oh yes. Consider it an early birthday present."

"Is that good?" Joss asked, eyeing Harry and his wand.

"It's….it's brilliant." Harry stuck his wand back into his jumper pocket.

"There are books you can pick up on apparition, Harry, and you can make the appointment for your test when you feel ready, either in the coming weeks or during your Christmas holiday. I will say, not many people can master it in just a month."

Harry nodded before a bell rang near the door out of Scrimgeour's office, making Jocelyn jump a bit as she and Harry looked to the door, while Scrimgeour simply took a sip of his drink, unfazed. The cool female voice that could be heard in the Ministry lifts spoke throughout the office. "Visitor requesting entrance: Albus Dumbledore."

"It appears that our meeting has come to an end. If you'd like to, I can create a portkey to Miss Montgomery's home in Surbiton, then another to take you back to the Weasley's home. That is where you are staying, am I correct?" Harry nodded once again, not at all surprised that the man knew of his current whereabouts; he was the Minister, after all.

"Sure. I doubt Dumbledore could be very happy at the moment, so I'll let you deal with him."

Jocelyn looked uneasy, tilting her head at Scrimgeor. "How is it that you know where I live? And how did you know my name in the first place?"

The Minister stood from his chair. "It will have to be for another time, my dear. Those visitors I wanted to avoid earlier are here. Harry, those memories?" As Harry leaned forward, Scrimgeour pulled out a very long strand of memories from his temple and sent them into a conjured vial. Then, he took a pair of muggle golf tees from his pocket and turned each into a portkey, tossing them to the boy before he could wonder just what the Minister of Magic was doing with golf tees. "The white one will take you to Surbiton when you both touch it, the black one will take you to the Burrow when you speak the name, 'Wilhelmina.'"

The bell rang and once again the voice announced that Dumbledore was requesting entrance. "You two had best be off." Joss looked ready to insist that Scrimgeour tell her what was going on, but bit her lip and looked to Harry, who held the white tee out to her. She took the other end of it and the two of them vanished, landing in a quiet neighborhood.

Harry landed on his feet, grabbing a stumbling Joss' hand at the last moment before she fell to the ground. "Thanks," she said shyly, as their hands kept held on each other for a moment longer than necessary. Harry looked around the street as she opened the fence's gate. All of the houses were brick, most of them brown with a red trim, though the occasional home was white. Besides the uniformity that reminded him slightly of Privet Drive, he liked the friendly, homey vibe that he got from the neighborhood.

"So," he began, unsure of what to say, really, as they walked down the small path to the door. The night had begun so well, and then he went and got himself into a life-threatening duel and exposed her to the magical world. "Look, I'm sor –"

He wasn't able to finish; once they got onto the doorstep, Joss leaned into him and pushed her lips to his. His eyes fluttered closed and it took a moment for his brain to register what was going on and tell his mouth to kiss back. It felt soft, right, virtually nothing like the kiss that he shared with Cho the previous December.

"Wow," was all he could get out when the two of them pulled away merely for lack of breath.

Jocelyn chuckled and bit her lip. "Thanks," she said with a smile. "I know I was angry with you, _very_ angry, but … you were incredible tonight. And I'm pretty sure you saved me once or twice."

"It was nothing," he replied shyly. "You saved me too...and I think I got you into the mess to begin with."

"Yeah, but, I'm glad you did, to be perfectly honest." Joss kissed him again, smiling against his lips. She pulled back and bit her lip again, looking to the side where the window shade was quickly replaced; a meddlesome parent had been spying. Giggling, Joss said, "I have to go inside. Um, this Burrow or wherever you're staying, does it have a telephone?"

"Err, yeah I think it does." His mind was still racing, his stomach refusing to stop its array of flips and spins.

Jocelyn fished a pen out of her purse and took hold of his hand, writing her phone number on his palm. "You'd better call me, Mr. Potter," she said with a smirk. And with one last quick peck on his lips, she vanished into the house, leaving Harry smiling like an idiot on her porch.


	3. The Montgomerys

**Chapter 3**

The Girl in the Cafe, Chapter 3

Jocelyn closed the door and leaned on it, closing her eyes and grinning at the butterflies that attacked her stomach with no mercy. What girl didn't dream of a little danger and adventure, discovering some magical world among her own and also finding a spot of romance? She was interrupted from her musings when a throat cleared and she saw her mother down the hall, crossing her arms.

Jordan Montgomery was thirty nine years old. Her curly dark brown hair reached down to her shoulder blades and her pale skin glowed slightly from a hallway light that was above where she was standing.

Her natural beauty and the play of light made her look a bit like an angel, though the knowing smirk she was wearing made her more akin to the devil in her daughter's eyes.

"You seemed pretty friendly with Prince Charming outside, dear," she teased, walking towards the door. "So, spill it, who is he?"

Joss moved to the sitting room, sitting on the couch with her mother. "Oh, just a boy," she said with a wistfully. She was pretty sure that she wasn't supposed to share what she'd seen today with any other….what was the word? Muggles?

"And does this boy have a name?"

"Yes he does." There didn't seem to be any harm in that. "Harry Potter." She looked up to the ceiling, not being able to stop her dreamy grinning. "He's…amazing, mum."

"Hmm, that name does sound a bit familiar." She thought about it and then shrugged. "Must have heard it in passing. And does he go to school? He's not some hoodlum, I hope. The characters you meet at the godawful train station…"

"For your information, he goes to a special boarding school in Scotland." She assumed that part was true. She left out the name of the school. She wasn't even sure she'd heard it right; what kind of place was called Hogwarts?

"Scotland, you say?" Again, Jordan thought about something, and Joss looked at her mother with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you feeling alright, mother?" she teased lightly, a smile tugging very lightly at her lips, though she did wonder what was going on with her.

"Nothing, it's nothing. So, what did you two do?"

"Well, he's been at the café a lot lately, and today I finally built up the nerve to talk to him. We met when I got off and went to Ben's place, and…really hit it off." They'd also gotten into a fight with an evil wizard, and she'd found out that he was a wizard as well, and they had a chat with the leader of his world, apparently, but she left all that out. "And then…well, you saw." She grinned wide and thought about that kiss, how it took him a moment to come to his senses and kiss back. "Mum, he's amazing."

"Wow, two occurrences of the word. When do I get to meet this amazing boy?"

Joss blushed. "I don't know. I don't want to rush it and have him meeting the entire family yet." She smiled sheepishly. "You….you didn't tell dad about what you saw, did you?"

"No, but I can't wait to. You think my teasing is bad, just you wait." She nudged her daughter's shoulder as a pouty groan escaped her lips.

"Not funny, mum." She mock-glared, but just couldn't stop the stupid grin from taking dominance of her face once more. "Well, I'm going to get to sleep. I gave him the house number to call, _please_ don't embarrass me if you answer it?"

"No promises," Jordan teased. "Off to bed, you."

Joss smiled at her mother, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek before heading up the stairs. She got ready for bed with an air of happiness akin to when she was just a little girl and had gotten her first crush on a boy. Sitting at her desk, she wrote in her journal for a while, recounting the night's events with a coy smile. When she was ready to sleep, she locked the small book in her desk drawer, and got into bed and curled up into the covers, thoughts of Harry dancing across her mind.

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After the two teenagers disappeared from his office, the minister limped slightly to his desk and sat, letting his visitor stew a bit longer. When he was half-finished with his second glass of mead and the pleasant female voice once again announced Dumbledore's presence, he finally nodded his approval, which allowed the door to open with a click.

In strode the aged form of his former Transfiguration professor and old friend. Of course, over the years the former Ravenclaw Head Boy had acquired a highly decorated career as an auror and was now the Minister of Magic, while the professor had become Headmaster and probably the most respected wizard in the country. Oddly, though, the much older man had seemed to age fifty years in just a few short weeks. The disfigured hand didn't help his image, either. "Minister," Dumbledore said as he walked in and looked around the room.

"Headmaster." Scrimgeour looked up from his glass to the professor, looking interested and innocent. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I can see you've already excused Harry. Back to the Burrow, I hope?" He accepted the glass of mead that had filled and floated to him as he sat down in front of the desk.

"Yes, and unharmed, to your surprise, I'm sure. Did you think I would eat the boy, Albus?" he asked the old man, the question seeming to have much more meaning beyond its joking tone.

The Headmaster chuckled lightly, but his amusement was fabricated. "After his experiences with your predecessor, I'm sure you cannot blame me for my worries."

"Ah, is that why you've intercepted any attempt I've made to contact him? You thought I'd try to label him a nut and toss him into Azkaban?"

"That, or make him into a mascot for your administration."

"You're getting a bit warmer there," Scrimgeour answered with a nod and a point. "That is to say that I _was_ planning on something like that. But we both now know that he's too smart to fall for it."

"Am I to assume, then, that he won't be standing another underage magic trial?"

"On the contrary, I've removed his Trace and offered to brush up his defensive skills."

The mask of pleasantry broke from Dumbledore's face, revealing the inner emotions of shock and anger, though only slightly and for just the smallest fraction of a second. "A bold move, Rufus. One that might have required some thought before making."

"You don't trust him? It's my opinion that the boy's more capable than most wizards a few years out of Hogwarts, and mature enough to know when not to abuse his abilities. Or does this make him too difficult to control?" He watched for Dumbledore's reaction, studying the man.

"I cannot argue your points on Harry's competence and maturity, as I'm sure you wouldn't expect me to." It was quite apparently that Dumbledore had much to argue on the matter, but he didn't bring them up or take the Minister's bait. "Did he tell you what happened to him?"

"I expect the Death Eater he subdued will provide us with a full account of what happened. I've ordered a veritaserum interrogation on him."

"Subdued?" asked Dumbledore, surprise on his face. "Who was it?"

"Amycus Carrow. Harry came out unscathed, save for a cut on his shoulder that I healed. And he managed to make sure his little friend was unharmed completely." Another look of curiosity adorned the older man's face, followed by a knowing smirk by Scrimgeour. "A muggle girl that he's been eyeing for weeks now. What's quite humorous is ‒"

A paper airplane flew with purpose out of the vent of the Minister's office, unfolding in midair in front of his face. He read the message with an unsurprised wince of disappointment. "Unfortunate."

"Something the matter, Rufus?"

"Quite. Carrow is dead."

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Jordan opened the door of the master bedroom, hoping not to awaken her husband, Franklin, but he was always a light sleeper, and as such he stirred and sat up slowly, looking up at her. He was the most handsome man in the world, in her opinion, with dark brown skin and extremely short hair. And his eyes, her most favorite thing about him, seemed to gaze into one's soul even when they were as glossy and drowsy as they were now. "Joss back home yet?" he asked tiredly.

"Yes, apparently she met a boy and really hit it off with him."

"Uh oh," he said with sarcastic misery, as his wife got back into bed and cuddled up to him. "Should I be worried?"

"No, no, from what she says, he's completely harmless. And I saw him from the porch window, the boy doesn't look like he could hurt a fly. Quite scrawny, glasses, and hair that desperately needs a comb."

"Good thing," he commented, closing his eyes as they both lay back down. "After the last trainwreck of a boyfriend, it's refreshing to have her find a pleasant one. And it might give her a reason to stay at home longer than she planned."

"Darling?" she asked after they'd been still for a moment or two. "That school you went to, all those years ago. It was in Scotland, wasn't it? The boy went to a 'special school' up there, as she put it."

"Yeah, it was up in Scotland," he answered slowly, raising his eyebrows but keeping his eyes closed. "You don't think….."

"I mean, I guess it could be the case. I mean, you and I met in London, didn't we? Just like them. You wouldn't have a problem with that if he was….like you, would you?"

"As long as he didn't bring her into any trouble. I left that world behind, but I still hear things. It sounds like trouble is starting back up again, like it was when we first met. Did you happen to get the kid's name?"

"Yeah, it sounded familiar to me, actually. Harry Potter."

Franklin's eyes opened.

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Harry landed on the Burrow's path and began walking to the large home off in the distance, a bit more hop in his step than usual. He was over the moon, if he was being completely honest. His date with Jocelyn had taken a turn for the worse before somehow ending off on a good note, and with a goodnight kiss and her phone number scribbled onto his hand, he didn't think he had done half bad.

He made it to just outside the burrow before a stunner shot from a random spot in the lawn, and he gasped and dodged it at the last minute, dropping to the ground and taking his wand out, but not aiming it at the person approaching.

Tonks was rushing towards him. "Identify yourself! Speak or lose your head!"

"Tonks, Tonks, it's me! What's going on!?"

She kept approaching suspiciously, her eyes narrowed as she looked him over. "When we left Privet Drive last Summer, what was the question I asked you just before we took off?"

"Come on, Tonks –" Her wand stiffened at him and there was no joking in her eyes. "Geez! You asked if both of my buttocks were still on."

Tonks then lowered her wand, a small smile tugging at her lips the he matched, though he was still freaked out. She threw a tight hug at him and then pulled back, smacking him over the head. "You absolute fool!" She aimed her wand towards the Burrow and a huge flare-like spark escaped it, as well as a loud bang. "I got him!"

People left the house in a humongous horde, nearly the entire Order of the Phoenix, in addition to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. Tonks took a fistful of his upper sleeve and dragged him towards the Burrow, and brought him to the mercy of the court, it seemed. Mrs. Weasley stepped forward and hugged him as tight as she ever had, making him yelp out a bit; he was getting a bit sore from the duel with Carrow. "Harry dear, we were worried sick! What happened to you?"

They had to be expecting something like a kidnapping, some tale like the Department of Mysteries fiasco, Harry being lured to a place Voldemort's followers could snatch him up, and him having to battle for his life once again. It was half-true, but no one expected the answer that came from his mouth. "Err, I went out?"

"Went out?" Mrs. Weasley looked confused, turning her head around at everyone else as if they could assist her in understanding. "What on Earth did you not have here that you would go out for?"

Tonks answered for him, admittedly a bit abrasively. "It isn't completely obvious, Molly? The stupid grin that hasn't completely fallen off of his face even after I drew my wand at him, the only just faint trace of lipstick on his lips, and of course, this…" She held his hand out for everyone to see, and Harry blanched with embarrassment. "Harry got us all riled up so he could go meet a girl."

Just about everyone, especially Fred and George, looked ready to laugh, with a few exceptions. Mrs. Weasley was still confused about why Harry would do something like that, Mad-Eye Moody was grumbling something about teenage hormones losing the war for them, and Ginny had already begun walking back towards the house before anyone else.

"Alright, everyone," Mr. Weasley said, calling to the Order. "I think things are more than under control. We'll let Dumbledore know that Harry's safe and sound, and you can head back to your rooms, or … you know, your own houses." People scrambled around back towards the house, though it was obvious they had a great deal more to ask. Harry made to follow Ron and Hermione once they were inside, but Mr. Weasley put his hand on his shoulder. "If you don't mind, Harry, I'd like to have a chat."

He nodded and followed the man across the kitchen and down a hall to a room that Harry had never seen before. It was mostly open, modestly decorated and sporting a desk in the corner that was kind of organized, in an admittedly messy way. In another corner was a muggle drafting table that had a number of odd and ends likely to be found in an old thrift shop. Harry assumed the table was just a small sample of what was in Mr. Weasley's workshed that he'd heard so much about over the years.

He spoke before Mr. Weasley could. "Look, sir, I'm really sorry about….well, all of this."

He'd meant to continue, but the man interjected. "Molly and her brothers were, well, nothing like their parents. The Prewitts, while not as extreme as the Blacks or Malfoys, bought into pureblood supremacy, and fervently disapproved of their daughter dating a Weasley. Needless to say, I'd need many more hands than I have in my possession to count the number of times Molly and I found it necessary to sneak out to see each other during Summer. My point, Harry, is that I don't blame you for doing what you did. Please just take into account that you are number one on the list of people You-Know-Who wants dead, not to mention the fact that nobody in the Order knew where you were going, and we all thought the worst. I know it's not the most enticing idea to have had a chaperone with you, but in these times…"

"I understand, Mr. Weasley. I just…well, you know."

"I was fifteen once too." He gave a kind, warm smile and sat at his desk, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I take it the new job is a heavy workload?" Harry asked, noting the invisible aura of stress that seemed to always allude the man until now.

"That, among other things. Namely, Rufus Scrimgeour did more than give me a promotion. He named me Deputy Minister. Anything happens to him and I'm to take his place. It also adds a considerable workload to my plate, not that I should be complaining."

That came as a pleasant shock to Harry. While he respected Mr. Weasley's line of work, he had learned that his interest in muggles had made him something of a pariah to the Wizarding elite like Cornelius Fudge and Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps Rufus Scrimgeour really was bringing about a change in the Ministry that Harry believed it desperately needed. "Congratulations, sir."

"Oh, thank you. I don't pretend it isn't a gigantic honor, though a part of me does wonder if it was based on merit, or Scrimgeour trying to score points with Dumbledore. The two of them have had quite the heated set of talks, from what I hear. They definitely have differing ideas on how to handle the war."

"You don't think that he could be trying what Fudge did with Percy, do you?"

"That is exactly what I had thought when I heard, though he assures me that he means nothing of the sort, and even swore a wizard's oath on the matter."

"Well, if his motives are innocent, Mr. Weasley, I'm not surprised. If anyone is fit to lead us at a time when we need it most, you'd make the short list, I'm sure." Actually, besides Dumbledore, who apparently never wanted the job, he couldn't think of anyone better for the job than Arthur, if Scrimgeour were to be killed while in office.

"Thank you, Harry. It's really appreciated. Now, back to this girl. I trust that the next time you feel the need to see her, you'll arrange it with Molly, me, or someone in the Order? We can be more than accommodating, but we just appreciate honesty and communication. I know you're not our son, but ‒"

"As good as." Harry had cut him off with a smile, repeating Mrs. Weasley's words from a heated discussion at Grimmauld Place last year. It brought a slight pang in his stomach at his own reminder of Sirius, but he was sure it would go away soon...he hoped. "Thank you sir. If I may, tomorrow I'd like to try and use your telephone, if that's alright. Or, I guess tomorrow might make me seem a little desperate. Two days? Three?"

Mr. Weasley laughed. "Trust me, tomorrow is when you want to call, and yes, I'll fish it out of the shed for you in the morning. I'm sure Dumbledore will be here with questions for you tomorrow about the small speed bump that occurred during your date," he added knowingly. Apparently he'd received some kind of heads up from Scrimgeour or Dumbledore, and it seemed the rest of the Order was either unaware or was told not to mention the underage magic usage or the duel with Carrow. "Off you go now, before Ron's head explodes with his own questions for you."

Harry nodded with a chuckle and left the room, heading up the stairs to the twins' old room to get changed. When he opened the door, though, he saw the room wasn't empty, as Hermione was sitting on his bed and Ron was leaning on the wall near the window.

Immediately Hermione exclaimed, "Harry!" and ran to hug him. He was definitely sore now, and let out a cry of hushed pain.

"Ah, careful, Hermione." He winced and pulled away, chuckling at her.

"What happened?" she asked, concern on her face that Ron matched as he too headed for Harry.

"Yeah, mate, why are you so sore? I mean, is that what happens after ‒ ow!"

But he'd been cut off by Hermione's elbow hitting his ribs. "After what, Ronald?" He rubbed his ribs, not answering as Hermione turned back to Harry, looking ready to hit him as well. "And you! You mean to tell me that you were here and just decided to leave without even saying anything to us?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. "Well, you guys were asleep, and I didn't have much time. I'm not sore 'cause I went to meet her, I kind of….well, there was a death eater."

"A _what?!_" exclaimed both of his friends in unison. Ron shook his head and said, "Only you, Harry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Care to elaborate?"

They moved away from the door, Harry on the edge of the bed with Hermione at the other end of it and Ron propped up against the wall on the floor as he recounted the encounter with Amycus Carrow, and then his conversation with Scrimgeour.

"You can do magic now?" Ron said, flabbergasted. "Wicked."

"It is _not_ wicked, Ron!" said a frustrated Hermione. "Harry, are you sure the Minister isn't trying to use you in any way?" she asked him, carrying a careful tone. "I mean, it sounds great, everything he's offering you, but it seems a little….convenient."

"Believe me, Hermione, I'm not completely sold on the man yet, and I'm not letting my guard down. But if it means I get the trace lifted and I finally get to learn the things I need to in order to survive, I can't pass this up. Even if he's using me for anything, I can make sure I use my connection with him for the better, as well."

She nodded in agreement, though it was hesitant. "Just be careful, alright? Remember how absolutely chummy Fudge was with you when you first met him." When Harry nodded back, knowing that she was completely and fairly right, her face sported a bit more smile and less concern. "So, a girl?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Her name's Jocelyn." And then he told the other half of the story, the one that came first, about their time together before Carrow, before skipping to the end, to the kiss. "And then I portkeyed back here, right into Tonks' line of fire, apparently."

"She cute?" Ron asked with raised eyebrows, prompting Hermione to reach randomly into a box near George's bed and toss the first thing she could grab at him. Ron disappeared in a puff of black smoke as he exclaimed in pain. With the black cloud dissipated, he was clutched his eye. "What the bloody hell, Hermione?!"

"Sorry!" she cried sheepishly as the small telescope she thrown rolled away from Ron, a fist protruding from it on a spring. She'd leaped from the bed and knelt by him, lowering his hand to reveal his eye swollen and puffy and a dark purple.

"Damn thing punched me right clean in the eye…can barely see," Ron mumbled as Harry bit back a laugh. He and Hermione exchanged a knowing look as Ron winced in pain. "I'm going to kill the twins, leaving trash like that in here."

"Oh calm down, you know if it were one of us that got hit you'd be on the floor laughing." Hermione laughed and stood. "I'm really sorry. Do you need your mum to come in and take a look at it?"

"No, I'll get it fixed tomorrow," he said with a grumble, apparently trying to appear tough which made it harder for Harry not to laugh.

"Alright," Hermione answered, looking down, then back to the bed. "Well, I'll have to get to sleep. You okay, Harry?"

His mind traveled back to earlier that night, which seemed like days ago. Dumbledore had all but told him to get it done with and tell them about the prophecy. But now after the incident with the telescope and talking about Jocelyn, the moment didn't seem right to bring up the fact that he was either marked for death or had to kill to stop it from happening. "Yeah, I'm good. Get some rest, Hermione." He smiled at her and she bade them goodbye as Harry looked back to Ron, getting up and helping him to his feet. "And yeah mate, she's gorgeous."

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Unfortunately, the happy thoughts of Harry kept Jocelyn awake, trying to get to sleep, so when the door creaked open, she opened her eyes and looked up towards the doorway. She had to have already been asleep and dreaming, for it couldn't have really been her father standing there, wearing the saddest look she'd ever seen on his face as he pointed a wand just like Harry's at her, and softly spoke the word, "Obliviate."

With not a single thought of Harry or magic or wizards left in her head, Jocelyn fell asleep easily.

(Of course, feedback is greatly appreciated, and I'll take praise and criticism with equal eagerness.)


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